


Guilt

by ethos



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Solid!Odo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23091799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethos/pseuds/ethos
Summary: Quark drugs Odo out of greed. He puts him to bed out of guilt.
Relationships: Odo/Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 82





	Guilt

Quark seizes the opportunity before fully considering the consequences.

It happens when Odo enters the bar around 2300 and orders a glass of water. Quark is expecting that, and already it annoys him. Odo _always_ orders water. Oftentimes he’ll lean over the bar and watch Quark make it, and at this point Quark thinks he gets off on being served. Being served for _free_ because water is free, and they both know it.

He’s expecting Odo because he has a large shipment of Orinian Ale coming in at the half hour. One they both know about. Very illegal, and very dangerous. So much so Quark’s already sweat through two of his good shirts from the stress. He can hardly keep his thoughts together, and he’s constantly checking in with his contacts, confirming and re-confirming that everything remains on schedule. He's terrified they're going to fuck something up and get caught by station security, by _Odo_ , and he’ll lose it all.

He hasn’t yet figured out how Odo got wind of this particular dealing, but he knew something was up when Odo stopped by hours earlier with that tell-tale gleam in his eye. Quark felt that sickly familiar drop in his stomach when Odo asked him, deceptively casual, _“Got any deliveries coming in, Quark?”_

Yes, he’s expecting Odo right about now.

Odo doesn’t look over at him when he enters. He slides into a booth facing the bar, and Quark feels that sickly familiar drop in his stomach once again.

He doesn't know how he’s going to get out of this. He can’t be in two places at once, and Odo is surely going to try and tail him.

Quark rolls his shoulders a couple times and approaches the booth, plastering a fake smile on his face. Odo’s eyes gradually move up to greet him, suspicious but gleaming still. “Evening, Quark,” he says.

“In case you didn’t notice, Odo, it hasn’t been evening for about three hours now.” Quark corrects, but he dismisses the point with a wave of his hand. Tries to look like he’s not shaking in his boots. “What’ll it be tonight?”

“Just water.”

“A shock to no one,” Quark shifts his weight to one leg. “Have you ever thought of trying to support your local businesses?”

Odo shrugs. “I support them all the time,” he says with a smile. “Just not this one.”

Quark frowns, because for some reason that comment hurt a bit. Not a lot, but just enough. Enough to not like. He picks the smile back up before it falls completely flat, not wanting Odo to know he could ever have any possible effect on his mood.

“Whatever," Quark says. "Make my place of business your own personal water fountain. Scare my customers away with your brooding. Do whatever you want, constable." 

Quark walks away before Odo's able to further extend the conversation, afraid his nerves might be starting to show on his face.

Already Quark feels light-headed, his torso cramped to bits with balls of anxiety. He works on auto-pilot, half-glad to have a task at hand to focus on. Get Odo some water. Some free fucking water.

Quark sees himself grab a glass, and he sees his hands start to shake as he fills it.

"Pull yourself together," Quark whispers angrily to himself. He's done this a million times before, but he hasn't really done _this_ a million times before. He's never ordered Orinian Ale, in bulk, and he's never waited for it with Odo like this.

Filling that glass of water, he thinks about the Orinian Ale.

He thinks about the smugglers.

He thinks about Odo sitting in that booth, waiting.

He thinks about how it’s only twenty minutes from crunch time.

Somewhere in the chaos, a horrible, terrible, _evil_ thought breaks through.

A plan.

(A crime.)

(Another crime.)

There’s a locked drawer on the bottom section of the bar, angled and intentionally hidden from people who aren't him. A drawer he rarely opens. A drawer that contains only one thing, a bag full of white tablets.

A bag full of drugs.

He keeps them locked up because they are expensive, and because they are illegal. Enough customers inquire about them, willing to pay stupid money to get one, that it makes fiscal sense to keep some. It's just logical, he tells himself, even though they scare him enough he'd never do it personally.

They're not _scary_ , per se, but Quark’s watched enough customers take them to know he doesn't want to mess with it.

On the surface, they appear to cause drowsiness, but Quark isn’t a fool. He knows they do more than that. As the night wears on, his dosed customers always become a little crazy, laughing at nonsense and speaking gibberish and grabbing for others, desperate to touch and stroke and _feel_. It makes them act like idiots--idiots with low inhibitions and low motor function--and that’s one thing Quark doesn’t need help with.

And they forget _everything_. They’ll come into the bar the next morning and thank him for the amazing night they had, the one they can’t quite remember. He’ll say you’re welcome and take their money, but he doesn’t understand how they deal with the memory loss. It’d drive him crazy.

Quark sees himself set the water glass on the bar and bend down to the drawer. He enters the code on autopilot, not quite believing he’s about to do what he’s doing, shaking with both nerves and relief that he’s finally come up with a plan. A solution. Something to do. 

He’ll be able to retrieve his shipment without any qualms, and Odo won’t be the wiser.

He opens the drawer, opens the bag, and stares at the tablets.

(What is he doing? What is he _doing_?)

He takes one tablet and closes the bag, but by the time he’s locked the drawer, he’s pulled the bag out again and taken a second tablet. For good measure, he tells himself. Just to make sure it works.

He plops both tablets into Odo’s glass. Watches them dissolve immediately, clear and tasteless on impact, almost as if he didn’t put them in there at all. Somehow the lack of visual evidence makes him feel better, and his mind wanders back to that shipment of Orinian Ale.

He's going to get away with it.

Odo can’t track him with two doses of the tablet coursing through his veins; better yet, Odo won’t remember a thing.

(He’ll be fine.)

When he’s sure everything looks normal, Quark takes the glass over and sets it in front of Odo.

It’s only when Odo gives him a curt nod and brings the glass to his lips-- _no turning back now!_ \--that Quark feels his first pang of regret.

He wonders if he just made the biggest mistake of his life.

Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing he can do now, and it’s fifteen minutes until the deal, so Quark returns back to the bar.

Over the course of thirteen minutes, Quark watches the drugs take over Odo. Gradually, Odo grows more languid. At first he manages to keep his eyes on Quark, watches him stiffly and pointedly from the booth, but soon enough it becomes too much. The effects of the drugs inevitably emerge. It starts when he leans against the seat, blinks a couple times and shifts around the booth. The next time Quark looks over, Odo has his head propped up on his hands, and he’s staring blankly at the glass on the table.

Quark thinks there’s a very good chance Odo has no idea what’s happening. That he doesn't even suspect anything is wrong.

It’s only been a few weeks since Odo turned solid. Odo hasn’t said anything to him, but he suspects the transition hasn’t gone smoothly. Odo’s mood swings have been something else, and he often comes into the bar late at night, jittery and fatigued, unwilling to admit he’s having difficulty adapting to a proper sleep schedule.

Odo’s new body is adjusting, and Odo's learning, but none of it is soon enough. He doesn’t know what being inebriated feels like. He can’t recognize the signs like a normal person might.

Thankfully.

Quark slips from the bar two minutes before his deal. Odo doesn’t notice him leave, and as far as Quark can tell Odo doesn’t follow him to the cargo bay, either. He just sits there, staring at the glass, in a different world now. Someone else now.

Without the added stress and precautions, the deal wraps up much quicker than Quark expects. He receives the Orinian Ale without a hitch, and the smugglers are gone as soon as he puts latinum in their hands.

He stores the shipment in a place known only to him and the gods. Then he returns to the bar with lighter pockets and a kick in his gate, feeling good. Feeling the rush of the grind, of capitalizing his assets, of winning.

He walks into the bar and one look at Odo stops all that. The high feelings drain from him, and that familiar drop in his stomach happens, the one he’s starting to recognize as guilt.

Odo is still sitting at the booth, but he’s got his head and chest laid on the table now, and the only thing that tells Quark he isn’t _dead_ is his hand making light fists next his head, like he might be having a dream.

Looking at him, it occurs to Quark that he knows nothing about Odo’s physiology. He has no actual idea what effect one tablet-- _two,_ Quark remembers with horror--will have on Odo’s new, unstable, adjusting body. Anything could happen. Quark’s not a doctor. He has no fucking clue.

Odo could explode, for all he knows.

Quark hurries over to the booth, stumbling into a couple of chairs.

Odo hears him coming and looks up as he approaches. It seems to be a considerable effort on his part to even raise his head. He gives Quark this sleepy, bashful smile, confirming that Quark did, in fact, just make the biggest mistake of his life tonight.

“Quark,” Odo says. “You’re in a hurry.”

He’s slipping on the words, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“You look tired,” Quark says carefully, searching Odo’s face for signs of...of...well, he doesn’t know. Something. He looks at Odo’s pupils, and they’re blown out. Fuck.

Odo shrugs. “I suppose I am a little tired,” he agrees, leaning onto his palm, his body lurching forward as he does it. His head nearly smacks the table, and Quark almost reaches out to prevent it, but Odo catches himself before that disaster happens.

“How about you go home?” Quark suggests.

Odo frowns, his eyes glancing around before finding Quark’s face again. “I’m waiting for something.”

“For what?”

Odo’s frown deepens, and he blinks up at Quark, a look of utter and complete confusion overcoming him. “I don’t know. Why don’t I know?”

Quark’s stomach drops again--yes, that’s _definitely_ guilt--and he takes a deep breath. He cannot panic. “Do you feel alright?” he asks, afraid of the answer. 

Odo doesn’t answer for a moment, squints his eyes to slits as if he’s thinking hard about the question. “Now that you ask, I feel strange,” he says finally, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I should go home.”

“Yes, you should. You definitely should,” Quark says, relieved. A little more calm now. He thinks he can fix all of this; Odo’s behavior is jarring, but Quark’s seen it in his customers countless times. Not quite this much, granted, but still. He’s pretty sure no one’s ever _died_ from the tablets, at least. He steps forward, reaches for Odo. “I’ll help you.”

“Help me?” Odo repeats, confused, and he jerks away from Quark’s touch. He falls flat on his side in the booth and continues, not registering the impact, “Why would you _help_ me? I don’t need help from you, Quark.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Quark props his knee on the booth so he can bend down and wrap his arms around Odo’s shoulders. He pulls him up, and Odo’s body feels loose against his own, like he might be slowly, somehow shifting into a liquid state again.

Odo lets Quark manhandle him, doesn’t seem to notice or care. His mouth is practically touching Quark’s ear when he asks suddenly, “Why do I feel so strange, Quark?”

Quark swallows. The question sounds like an accusation, but Odo’s tone is curious. A little apprehensive and confused. “I don’t know,” Quark lies, and he wraps Odo’s arm around his shoulder before pulling them both out of the booth. They stumble into a standing position, and Odo’s legs are shaky. Quark asks him, “Can you walk?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Odo says, surprisingly heated, offended at the inquiry. He takes a step forward, stumbles a bit, but manages. “How strange this is.”

“Yes, yes, very strange,” Quark agrees, focused only on putting one foot in front of the other now. A few late night patrons give them curious looks, but they don’t ask. Which is good, because Quark doesn’t have an answer.

The promenade is deserted, thank the fucking gods above. Quark has no plan for what he might do should they run into someone they know. Say Odo had a little too much to drink, maybe, and he’s helping him home. Half-truths make the best lies.

In the hall, Odo loses his grip and stumbles into a wall. Quark panics a little, wraps his arms completely around Odo in an effort to steady him against the wall. Odo feels so solid against him, warm and trembling.

“I’m so sleepy, Quark,” Odo mutters, sounding ashamed. “I’m sorry I fell.”

Quark thinks that’s the first apology Odo’s ever given him, and it doesn’t even count. “It’s not your fault,” he reassures, meaning it, hoping Odo never finds out whose fault it is. “Let’s just get you home, okay?”

They start the journey again, and this time they make it to Odo’s quarters with only a few minor bumps.

Quark prods, “Put in your code, Odo.”

In his inebriation, Odo says it aloud, laughing as he does it. Says it a couple times, actually, slurring it the first time around and failing. Almost immediately Quark memorizes the code; he can’t help it, it’s how his brain works, but it only makes him feel worse. He tells himself he won’t ever _do_ anything with the code--not after he got it like this--but even he knows himself. Things might be different tomorrow.

Quark leads Odo inside and once the lights are on it’s simple enough to find the bedroom. Something feels wrong about it though, to go in there just like that, but he’s not left with much of a choice.

Odo’s bedroom looks exactly as Quark might have expected if he’d ever bothered to think about what Odo’s bedroom looks like. The room is sparse, furnished with only a Starfleet-issued bed and nightstand. The sheets on the bed are tucked with expert efficiency, as if no one had yet bothered to sleep in them, a stark contrast to Quark’s own disheveled sheets.

“You’re in my bedroom,” Odo says after they’re a couple steps inside, accusatory. One of his hands balls into Quark’s blazer, and he pulls Quark around to face him with such a force they almost fall, but they don’t. “ _Why_?”

Quark looks at Odo’s face, notices the way Odo’s eyes can’t seem to focus on any one thing, and it scares him. He swallows, reminds Odo in a voice he hopes sounds gentle, “I’m helping you home.”

“I am home.”

“I’m helping you to bed,” Quark offers instead. It comes out so insinuating, he wants to take it back.

Odo doesn’t notice. “Alright. Bed sounds nice.”

Quark lies him onto the bed. A not-so-easy task given their weight disparity, but he puts his all into it, straining muscles he didn’t know he had so Odo doesn’t accidentally go rolling or flying off the bed. So Odo remains comfortable. It’s the least Quark can do, considering he made this mess.

The mess lying on the bed, blinking up at him now with that sleepy, bashful smile. “You’re in my bedroom,” Odo says again.

Quark looks down at Odo, so uncharacteristically relaxed and loopy it’s like he’s someone else, and he finds himself actually smiling. He can’t help it. This new, strange version of Odo brings a weird feeling upon him, one that warms a part of his chest he'd forgotten he had. It’s like Odo exerts warmth, somehow.

Actually, maybe Odo _is_ exerting warmth. Physically, Quark means. He presses the back of his hand to Odo’s forehead, runs his fingers through Odo’s hair only to find it slick with sweat.

Exerting _heat_ , more like it.

Quark swallows at the delicate decision he's faced with, not sure he's about to make the right choice. “Odo,” he starts carefully. “Your body is overheating.”

“Okay.”

“I should take your clothes off.”

“ _Quark_ ,” Odo says in a moment of semi-clarity, grinning like an idiot.

“Not like that,” Quark corrects quickly. A little too quickly. “Just enough to cool you down.”

Odo makes a noise that sounds like agreement, so Quark gets to work. He starts on Odo’s boots, mostly because it seems like the most natural thing to do, but also because he’s nervous about the other stuff. The shirt. The trousers.

(He’s been curious about what Odo’s body looks like, especially since Odo turned solid, but he can hardly admit that to himself when he’s alone, let alone right now.)

He slips the boots off, nothing wrong about that, and then shifts to the side of the bed. Awkwardly pulls Odo into a sitting position, acutely aware of the physical proximity. Too aware. The darkness makes it intoxicating in a way, makes it the only sensory information his mind latches onto.

He peels Odo’s sweaty shirt off and tosses it to the floor, and then he moves back to the end of the bed, purposely not looking at Odo. It registers he’s about to fool around with Odo’s belt, and Quark’s mouth dries. This might’ve been a mistake.

Before he can continue, Quark feels a light touch on his wrist.

“Just the pants...I don’t want you to see me naked,” Odo mutters.

“You and me both,” Quark replies.

(That’s not true. He’s been curious about _every_ part of Odo’s body.)

Quark completes the task without thinking about it fully--unfastens the belt, slips Odo’s trousers down until he can pull them off completely, takes the socks with them.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left standing at the edge of the bed, and he allows himself to actually take a look at Odo, lying there in his black briefs. His skin almost glows in the dark, it’s _that_ pale. It helps Quark see every muscle on Odo’s body, highlights the trail of blond hair running down from his navel to the band of his underwear, every lean and soft piece of flesh.

Quark’s eyes naturally take everything in, raking over Odo’s body out of habit. It is something else, to look at Odo this way, candid and half-naked and peering back up at him like they might be in a _very_ different situation.

Quark averts his eyes and clenches his jaw, unable to believe himself, ashamed he’s looking at Odo in the same way a predator might, and enjoying it.

It’s been a long time since he’s surprised himself like this. Since he’s disappointed himself.

He feels like a monster.

Fuck.

A horrible sensation--that familiar, electric jolt in his groin mixing with that sickly familiar drop in his stomach. Quark almost laughs at it, hardly believing he’s here, doing this, right now.

He doesn’t laugh, because it isn't funny.

He leaves and fetches Odo a glass of water, avoids looking into the mirror in the bathroom. His stomach drops again watching the glass fill. The last time he fetched Odo water replays in his mind, over and over again.

Those two tablets dissolving in the water like they were never really there in the first place.

Odo taking that first draw from the glass, ignorant and trusting.

 _Gods_ , Quark can’t think about it. He pushes it from his mind, afraid he might throw up.

When he returns, Odo turns his head and looks at him with half-lidded eyes. He asks again, “Why do I feel like this?”

Quark settles on the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers through Odo’s hair, tilts Odo's head up until he’s able to bring the glass to Odo's lips. “I don’t know,” he lies for the second time.

Odo sips the water. He keeps his eyes on Quark’s face, and when Quark lies his head back down, Odo’s gaze flickers to the glass of water. Follows it until Quark sets it on the nightstand. He starts suddenly, arms smacking down into the mattress like he’s just woken up from a dream. “Quark, did you _drug_ me?” he asks, wild, disbelieving.

And there it is, just like that. Quark’s heart almost stops, and he runs a hand across his face. He shouldn't be surprised Odo managed to piece it together, but he still is. Leave it to Odo to be the best damn detective in the quadrant, even while high out of his mind.

Quark does not reply for a long while. Mostly because he can’t. He’s trying to get his panic under control--a white, hot, surging panic that makes him incapable of thinking of anything else besides his impending doom.

Even though it's likely Odo won’t even remember any of this, Quark just knows he’s going to get arrested tomorrow. Odo’s going to look at him with utter hatred and humiliation in his eyes, and Quark’s going to rot in a cell, thinking about that expression on his face.

“Yes,” Quark says. “I’m sorry.”

He somehow brings himself to look at Odo’s face.

Odo peers back at him, appears to be thinking very hard. “You’re under arrest,” he says finally.

For a sick moment Quark actually believes Odo is serious, stupidly enough. But only a moment, because Odo can’t hold it in any longer. Odo smiles, and a chuckle breaks out from somewhere deep in his chest. “I can’t believe you drugged me," he says, his voice more high-pitched and giddy than Quark's ever heard. "You’re _bad_ , Quark.”

And it’s such a shock, such a _relief_ that Odo doesn’t even _care_ , at least right now, at least in this moment, that Quark actually laughs with him. Nervously, at first, still not quite feeling like a person yet again.

“Yes,” he agrees. He wipes at his face and smiles down at Odo, more lavisciously than he probably should. “I’m a _very_ bad man.”

“I’ll get you one day,” Odo promises.

“I don’t doubt it.”

Quark wants to stay where he is, wants to sit there and watch Odo for a while. Watch him roll around and grope the sheets and laugh like a maniac and act like nothing in the world matters to him.

It’s a selfish desire. While Quark usually has no qualms with giving into those, he’s closing the book on this one. Not tonight.

Odo has started to shiver, so Quark fishes a blanket from the closet and drapes it over him. Odo writhes beneath the contact in a content kind of way, closes his eyes and exhales loudly.

Not able to resist every impulse, Quark tucks Odo in, lets himself smooth out the blanket over Odo’s chest until it's up to his neck. He straightens up and tells him, “I’m going to leave now.”

Odo grabs Quark’s wrist before he can pull away completely. “Quark,” he says, working the name around the sleep in his mouth. His fingers slide down to intertwine with Quark’s own. “Stay?”

The contact is startling--sudden and electric and overwhelming in a way Quark doesn’t want. He frowns down at Odo, doesn’t pull away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Odo frowns back at him. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Everything,” he whispers. "The dark."

It’s not something Quark should be hearing--Odo’s fears, uninhibited and open for further inspection, courtesy of the drugs. It’s not something Quark deserves to hear. He knows Odo wouldn't want him to know this information.

But Quark listens anyway, unable to _not_ listen. He’s caught off-guard by the honesty. Guilted by it. Enamored with it.

He sits on the edge of the bed and studies Odo’s face, but there’s nothing new there. Odo is staring at him with wide, pathetically hopeful eyes.

Quark never stood a chance.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll pull a chair in here.”

Odo bursts into a fit of giggles at that, or at least tries to. His breath hitches and his eyes crinkle around the edges, bright and full of light.

“What’s so funny?” Quark asks when Odo doesn’t explain himself.

“A chair,” Odo says. “You’re small enough to sleep in a chair.”

Quark makes a face, because it almost sounds like Odo's attempting an insult, but Odo’s still grinning sleepily up at him and there's fresh, happy tears in Odo’s eyes, and Quark finds himself not caring if it’s a jab or not. It’s all in good fun, anyway. And Odo...well, Odo. Quark can’t admit it to himself, can’t even let himself feel it completely, but Odo is acting so endearingly (so _adorably_ , is what he really can’t admit) that Quark can’t be mad.

Quark smiles, wipes away a tear from Odo’s eye. “Yes, I suppose I am,” he agrees.

When he stands to grab a chair from the other room, Odo doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Don’t go,” Odo says quietly, still smiling. “Share my bed.”

Quark rips his hand from Odo’s grip as if he’d just been burned by it, because...because _gods_ , that sounds so bad. So _wrong_. It makes him feel so dirty, like he needs to get away from Odo before he dirties him as well. “No,” Quark says, firm.

“Please, Quark,” Odo begs. “Don’t leave me alone in the dark. I’m afraid.”

Briefly Quark wonders if Odo might be a bit more coherent than he seems, if he’s learned saying _I’m afraid_ will guilt Quark into doing what he wants. Quark honestly can’t tell.

It works, regardless.

He exhales and sits back on the bed, not quite registering what’s about to happen. That he’s going to lay down on the bed next to Odo and watch Odo sleep everything off.

“I’ve never slept with anyone,” Odo admits behind him, in the literal sense, not in the way Quark’s mind jumps to. Odo rolls onto his side, peers up at Quark. “Is it different? To sleep with someone?”

“Yes,” Quark answers honestly, sliding off his shoes. “It’s better.”

“I hope so,” Odo murmurs, his voice muffled now as his face presses into the pillow.

Quark’s heart breaks a little for him. Melts a little, too.

He shakes off his coat, lays it carefully on the floor. He decides it’s best he keeps his trousers and shirt on, despite how much he’d rather take the grimy clothes off, and climbs into the free side of the bed. Lies a good two feet away from Odo.

Odo peeks from the pillow when the bed dips, and he comments, “So far away.”

“It’s for the best,” Quark tells him, settling onto his back. Lying down for the first time, the toll of the day hits him, and he’s suddenly overcome with the desire to close his eyes and go to sleep.

Odo has different plans.

Quark hasn’t had his eyes closed for three seconds before he feels Odo roll on top of him. A long, lithe body stretching over him without warning, pressing him down into the mattress.

“Odo!” Quark yelps, shocked and afraid and a little turned on. He blinks, finds himself staring straight into Odo’s wide eyes. “Get off me!”

He’s not particularly shocked, actually, because it was only a matter of time before Odo got the touchy-feelies. He’d been touching Quark all night in one way or another, and in hindsight Quark might’ve baited that particular effect of the drug when he hopped into the bed.

He tries to push Odo off, but Odo barely budges. “Where did you get this strength?” Quark asks, frustrated.

Odo shrugs. “I found it from within,” he explains, his tone mockingly serious. He thinks for a second. “I don’t know what that means.”

Quark doesn’t have time for this. Odo’s body is weighing heavily down on him, in the best and worst kind of way, and he’s afraid of what kind of reaction might come from him. Doesn’t think he can live with himself if he has any kind of _reaction_ while Odo is in this state, while they’re having physical contact.

Quark slips his hands on Odo’s sides, startled at the feeling of Odo’s bare skin, but he plows ahead. Fruitlessly pushes at Odo’s chest.

Odo snatches Quark’s wrists, draws them together over his head and presses them down. He holds them with one hand and cups Quark’s cheek with the other, pulling Quark's gaze to his. Searches for something in Quark's face, but Quark has no idea what he's looking for.

For a moment Quark is actually stupid enough to think Odo is going to kiss him. He sees it vividly in his mind’s eye. Odo would keep his wrists pinned above his head, Odo would lean down to put his mouth on his, and Quark wouldn’t want it...at first...he’d say no and make excuses, but he’d eventually give in. He'd relent out of guilt, mostly, and he'd try to make everything up to Odo, he'd--

“Quark.” Odo says from above, breaking the fantasy. “I love you.”

And somehow--or maybe completely understandably--that shocks Quark more than Odo kissing him would have. “I just _drugged_ you,” he says incredulously.

“I don’t care.” Odo drops his head down into the crook of Quark’s neck. Sighs contently against Quark’s ear. “I feel so happy. I never feel this happy.”

“That’s a shame,” Quark says, truly honestly, but his thoughts are returning to the task at hand: getting Odo off him. He takes the gentler route, slowly pulling his arms down back to Odo’s side and then gently rolling him back over to his spot on the bed. Odo doesn't resist this time.

He doesn’t resist, but he keeps his hands on Quark, bringing him along for the ride. Quark’s forced to shift until they’re lying side by side, facing each other, and somehow that's more intimate than when Odo was on top of him.

“I meant it, you know,” Odo tells him.

Quark doesn’t believe it. “No, you didn’t,” he says. Without warning a lump has appeared in his throat, and he tries his best to work around it. Doesn't quite succeed. “You only said that because I drugged you.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes,” Quark insists, almost angrily. “I’m a terrible monster who drugged you. If you remember this in the morning, you’ll hate me. Trust me.”

Odo smiles at that, actually smiles, and it confirms to Quark that he really is delusional right now. “You’re not a monster, Quark,” he says simply, like it could be true. He shifts an inch closer, and it feels like a mile. “Can I share a secret with you?”

Quark wants to say, _please, don’t_ , but he just nods. Feels he needs to hear what Odo has to say, feels like his sanity might depend on it in the morning.

“Even though I say I hate you all the time, I never mean it.” Odo touches Quark’s cheek again, runs his hand along his jaw, and Quark lets him. “You’re one of the closest relationships I have.”

Quark’s heart breaks. Odo _should_ hate him. Odo should hate him for all the things he’s done in the past, and _especially_ for the thing he did today. Quark hates himself for it--he's starting to accept that now--but that means nothing. Hating himself might be one of the easiest things in the universe for him to do.

He needs Odo to hate him, needs Odo to tell him he's an awful piece of shit for what he did.

Once that's over, he can wallow in his misery. He won't have to feel guilty anymore.

He won't have to care.

“Don’t be stupid,” Quark replies, his voice cracking. He feels like he’s going to cry.

"I'm _serious_. I love you. You drive me crazy, but that makes me feel alive. It all works out," Odo explains, his voice deep and earnest and kind. The voice of a man high off his mind. He tilts his head, pats the side of Quark's face. “Don’t cry, Quark.”

Damn. He is crying.

It's like Odo understands exactly what he needs to hear.

And the guilt just worsens. It compounds on top of itself, collapsing inside him. Here he is, taking up space in his victim’s quarters, in his victim’s _bed_ , crying about how badly he feels over the crime he’s committed.

Pathetic. Completely, utterly pathetic.

And _sick_.

Before Quark can break out into a complete sob, Odo saves him from the embarrassment. “I want to hold you, Quark,” he says shyly. “I’ve never held anyone.”

Quark almost says no. He should say no, but it’s such a nice thought. Odo's arms around him, Odo's breath tickling his face. He wants it so badly. Doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything so much in a life. “Alright,” he agrees, adding a beat later, “Only if you want to, Odo. I’m serious.”

“I told you I wanted to, didn’t I?” Odo wraps his long arms around Quark again. This time Quark expects it, and the anticipation makes the experience pleasant. Odo rests his head against Quark's chest, runs a hand along Quark's back, and Quark recognizes he's been needing this for a while now, for someone to hold him.

(For Odo to hold him.)

"You were right, Quark," Odo says, sleepy and content. "This is better."

He nuzzles his face into Quark’s neck, and just like that he’s drifting off. Quark can tell by the way his breathing turns shallow, and the way his body somehow manages to slacken even further.

Quark stares up at the ceiling, eyes wide open.

By the time Odo wakes up, the tablets’ effects will have diminished entirely.

If everything goes according to plan--that original, horrible plan--Odo won’t remember a thing.

Another surge of guilt hits Quark at the thought. An inevitable surge of relief, too, if he's being completely honest. Despite the emotional ringer he's put himself through, he still wants to get away with it. He’s not perfect.

He feels something else too, something deep in the pit of his chest and close to his heart. Something that feels an awful lot like regret.

Maybe a part of him wants Odo to remember.

***

After checking Odo's breathing and pulse, Quark slips away just before dawn. He spends an inordinate amount of time climbing out of the bed and pulling on his shoes, terrified Odo will wake and discover him in a place he doesn’t belong. It’s a needless worry. Odo is dead to the world.

He affords himself one last look at Odo before he leaves. Odo’s tangled in the blankets, lying on his stomach with one arm tucked under the pillow, his hair a wild mess and his mouth slightly ajar as he snores.

(Adorable.) 

Quark returns to his own quarters and finds them lacking. Empty and depressing and not where he wants to be. He settles in bed but doesn’t sleep.

The events of the night replay in his mind, already growing fuzzy with age. He's beginning to doubt they ever really happened.

Two images keep coming to him. The two he wants to think about the least.

Reaching into that drawer, into that bag. Pulling out two tablets and dosing Odo's glass without so much as a proper pause. 

That one feels so long ago now.

Odo's face, the closest it's ever been to Quark, his eyes pools of sincerity. His hand cupping Quark's face. His mouth saying, “ _I love you._ ”

That one feels a little closer.

Quark hears it over and over again in his head.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

There’s no way he could have meant it.

(Right?)

Quark goes to work in the morning, tired but otherwise fine. Odo misses his morning round in the bar.

It's late into the evening before he shows his face.

Quark is on one of the top-levels of the bar, bussing the tables, and for the last few minutes he hasn’t thought about Odo at all. Not once.

Not until a throat clears behind him, and he feels that sickly familiar drop in his stomach.

His thoughts immediately leap to Odo, because it _is_ Odo, he knows it is, standing directly behind him.

He does not initially turn around. He does not want to look at Odo.

If he looks at Odo, he’ll think of last night.

He’ll think of dropping those tablets into that glass of water.

He’ll think of Odo saying _I love you_.

(Twice.)

He’ll think of it all, and it’ll all show on his face in one way or another, no matter how much he tries to stop it.

Quark steels himself, finally turns around and brings his eyes up so he gets a full look at Odo. Odo looks fried, his skin even more colorless and heavy shadows under his eyes. 

His arms folded across his chest. His face blank.

He’s suspicious.

Quark considers fleeing down the stairs. He’s not ready for this.

Odo smiles when Quark catches his eye, but it’s nothing like the ones from the night before. This smile makes Quark’s skin turn cold. Odo says, in the mildest, vaguest tone Quark has ever heard, “You look tired today, Quark. Did you have a late night?”

“No,” Quark says a little too quickly.

Odo drops his gaze momentarily, picks at one of his fingernails. "I think perhaps I did, but I’ve been having some issues with my memory lately."

“Oh?” Quark makes a vague noise, returns to gathering dishes just to give himself something to do with his hands. It also lets him hide his face from Odo.

“Yes,” Odo says. “Something strange happened to me last night.”

Something very strange indeed. Something awful. Quark doesn’t think he’d be able to admit the truth to Odo even if he wanted to, so he keeps himself quiet, knowing all the while it makes him look more guilty.

Quark feels more than sees Odo take two steps forward from behind him, invading his personal space. “How about we drop the pretense, Quark?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quark mutters, proud of the steadiness in his voice. Even as they speak his mind is watching his hand drop those tablets into the water. Watching Odo’s lips curve into a smile and say, “ _I love you_.”

Odo shoves him chest-first onto his dish box, a sudden and unexpected move that sends its contents flying. Then Odo’s voice is right behind Quark’s ear, tickling his neck, flat and serious, “Did it really never occur to you I might keep surveillance inside my own quarters, Quark?”

Quark's world turns black for a split-second. His knees buckle. He can’t breathe. If Odo hadn’t already pressed him down, he thinks he would’ve collapsed.

Before Quark has a chance to say _I can explain_ or _I'm so sorry_ , Odo continues, his anger high in his voice now, “Are you really that _stupid_? I suppose you are, since you decided it was a good idea to drug me.”

Quark instinctively pushes back against Odo, but it’s futile. “Odo, calm down. I’m sorry. Please--”

“Did you get the Orinian Ale alright? Did everything work out well _for Quark_?” Odo asks, _seething_ now, and he sounds like he might hurt someone. Eventually he does, digging his elbow into Quark’s back for no practical reason. “The depths you’re willing to sink down into still manage to surprise me, Quark, isn’t that strange?”

“Odo, please--”

“Don’t speak. _Listen_ ,” Odo snaps.

Quark shuts up.

“I'm going to speak very slowly and very carefully to you. Maybe something will finally get through to that vile, little brain of yours,” Odo hisses, deathly low. "If you ever drug me or anyone else again, I'll send you to the nearest Starfleet penitentiary and wipe my hands of you forever.”

Quark can’t help himself. “You’re not going to do that now?”

“ _Shut up_!" Odo sounds crazed for a second, like a madman, but he manages to reel it in. "If you speak a word of what happened last night to anyone, if you even _think_ about it around other people, I’ll arrest you. I’ll _hurt_ you.”

(This is the moment Quark realizes Odo might actually be more humiliated than angry.)

Odo's anger feels very real however, digging hard and pointedly between Quark's shoulder blades. "Fine, fine!" he says. He wasn't going to tell anyone, anyways.

"You are going to lead me to that shipment of Orinian Ale." Odo says it like it's a fact. When Quark doesn't respond right away, he pushes him farther onto the dish box. "This is where you say _yes_ , Quark."

Quark relents. "Yes! Whatever! Just get off me."

"One more thing," Odo says. "Everything I said last night, I didn’t mean a word of it. _I hate you_ , Quark."

He lets go of Quark without warning, and Quark almost slips completely from the table and onto the floor. By the time he’s managed to catch himself on a chair and turn around, Odo’s already disappeared somewhere around the corner.

Quark runs a hand across his face.

All things considered that went surprisingly well, but he’s still shocked. Stricken by his own stupidity. The surveillance never once occurred to him, even though it should have. That paranoid freak.

Quark’s hands shake as he loads the dish box back up, and he thinks of Odo pressing him down. Hurting him. Telling him he hates him.

But then his mind inevitably wanders, and he's remembering Odo holding him down in an entirely different way, Odo looking at him with such purity and love in his eyes he can hardly stand it, Odo saying, _"I love you."_

It was probably the drugs talking.

Even so, he's allowed to remember it. He's allowed to store the memory somewhere deep inside his mind to look at occasionally. No matter how much Odo may want to, he can't take that away from him.

Quark smiles, finds he's blushing. He shakes his head and tries to stop thinking about it, knows he's just going to drive himself crazy.

But he can’t. He can’t stop thinking about it, and he can't stop smiling.


End file.
